


A Christmas Carol at Malfoy Manor

by SibylHarkness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 12:30:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17022657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SibylHarkness/pseuds/SibylHarkness
Summary: The future of the Wizarding World rests on the shoulders of one selfish and self-absorbed Draco Malfoy. Can some unexpected guests force him to change his ways and save the world?'Present' is set during the 6th year Christmas Holidays.





	1. Chapter 1 – A Christmas Carol

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas all! Please enjoy my Christmas Carol inspired fanfiction! All rights go to JK Rowling and Charles Dickens.

 

The drawing room of Malfoy Manor was the grandest room in the house. The vaulted ceilings were decorated with hand-painted gold leaf and anchored two majestic chandeliers. A long ornate table filled one half of the room and a fire with a large marble mantlepiece and an intricately designed gilded mirror above lay at the other.

However, what was inside the room was anything but beautiful. Death Eaters swarmed the room, some sat at the table, others gathered around the fire. The attention of all was directed at the person suspended like a grotesque puppet in the centre of the room, blood slowly dripping from their extended fingers.

Draco Malfoy gazed over the scene with glassy eyes. The Dark Lord had been depositing people at the Manor for several weeks now. At first, he had thought that they were to be tortured for information, but an offhand comment from the Dark Lord had suggested that he had finished with them. Thus, their torture was purely to sate the sadistic pleasures of the current occupants of the house. He went to turn away in disgust, but his mother caught him with a look and a jerk of her chin telling him to remain still. Although it was covert, Fenrir Greyback saw it with his heightened senses.

Once the many _Crucio_ spells had been cast and Bellatrix had been allowed to use her knife, it was a miracle the woman – or at least Draco thought it was a woman – was still alive. A muttered spell from somewhere made her drop like a sack of potatoes, the only sign of life being the small groan that forced itself past her lips.

“Wormtail!” Bellatrix shrieked. “Take this trash back to the cellar!”

“No,” barked Greyback with a malicious grin “Make the Malfoy runt do it.”

Bellatrix nodded absently and jerked her head at Draco, her attention already on other things. With a furtive glance at his mother, he walked over to the crumpled mess of a person and grabbed her by the upper arm. He fervently wished he had stayed at school this Christmas, even if it meant working more on the cabinet, but with no other choice available, he began to drag the woman out of the room.

When they reached the cellar, Draco dropped her arm whilst he fumbled in his pocket for his wand. He became aware of a rasping noise coming from by his feet and thought she must be choking on the tangle of hair in her face. With the tip of his wand, he pushed it back and realised that she was trying to speak. He glanced around and seeing no one bent down to better hear her.

“What? I can’t hear you.” He muttered, only half trying anyway. When he did hear her cracked words, he froze.

“…help…me…please…”

He stood abruptly, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Without ever looking at her again he unlocked the cellar door, shoved the woman through it with his feet and slammed it shut again. He bypassed the drawing room in favour of going straight to his room and collapsed on the bed. He had been surprised to learn, at first, that being surrounded by the Death Eater movement was quite exhausting and once the thrill wore off – approximately 2 minutes after the first person was deposited at the Manor – he did not enjoy it quite as much as he thought.

Draco covered his face with his forearm and dozed for a while until a faint scraping and rattling sound drew his attention. He sat up and looked around for the annoyance but saw none and surmised that more entertainment must be happening downstairs. He decided to forego supper and with a wave of his wand changed into his pyjama pants before climbing into bed. He had just closed his eyes when an almighty CLANG from inside his room made his heart stop. He wrenched his eyes open and quickly sourced the sound.

Igor Karkaroff stood beside one of his large bay windows gazing balefully at the Manor grounds. Draco was just about to burst out how his room was off limits when something stopped him. As his sleep-muddled mind roused itself, he realised there were chains wrapped around Karkaroff’s body and trailing onto the ground. It looked to Draco as though Karkaroff were doing his best Bloody Baron impression. And that’s when it hit him. Karkaroff was dead. Bellatrix and a few others had tracked him down not long after the Dark Lord’s return and killed him for treason.

“Karkaroff…you’re a ghost?” Draco breathed.

As though noticing him for the first time, Karkaroff glanced over his shoulder at him then returned his gaze to the window and let out a heavy sigh.

“I have been stupid.” His heavily accented voice swirled through the room. “I did not want to be a Death Eater anymore.” Draco thought that much was obvious but decided to keep his thoughts to himself. “When I met the Dark Lord, he spoke of such wonderful things. I thought we were the heroes of wizarding kind. I was wrong.”

Draco rubbed his eyes, hoping he was seeing things. He didn’t think he could cope with a dead and regretful Igor Karkaroff in his bedroom right now.

“Right…well…er…” Draco started.

“I fell in love with a woman at Durmstrang!” Karkaroff declared.

“Oh…er…lovely…” Draco tried, but the ghost wasn’t listening, he wasn’t even sure Karkaroff knew he was there.

“She gave me purpose in life again and when the Dark Lord called, I didn’t want to leave her.” He continued mournfully. “When they found me, they murdered and debased her while I watched. I was too afraid to do anything. Now I carry these chains as penance for her and all the others I have wronged.”

“Right…well…good for you?” Draco cursed his bad luck and thought about just going back to sleep when Karkaroff turned and swooped so close to Draco’s face he could have sworn he felt his breath.

“Draco Malfoy!” Karkaroff cried. “What I wouldn’t give to be you!”

“Me?” Draco spluttered.

“You have the chance to change your mind! The time is now, young Malfoy. If you don’t change, you _will_ become me!” With a wail, Karkaroff flew backwards and disappeared through the wall to the en-suite. Draco held his breath and listened, hoping that the ghostly professor wasn’t now hanging around in his bathroom. When he heard no more rattling, he let out a sigh and sank back into his bed. He thought on the bizarre encounter he’d had but then shrugged his shoulders and snuggled down more underneath the blankets.


	2. Chapter 2 – The Ghost of Christmas Past

Draco woke with a start. He stared at the ceiling in darkness listening. Although he couldn’t hear a sound, he cast a quick Lumos and sat up to glance around. He gave a strangled yell as he immediately saw what woke him.  
“WEASLEY!” He stage-whispered and levelled his wand at the figure at the end of his bed. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”  
Ron Weasley stood grinning and leaning casually against one of the bedposts. “Malfoy. Merry bloody Christmas.”  
“Seriously,” Draco hissed. “How did you even get in here?”  
Ignoring the question Ron straightened up and replied. “You’ve been a bit of a git – well a massive git and that’s being nice. I’m here to show you some things.”  
“Weasel whatever it is you want to show me in the dark I can assure you Potty would be much more interested.” Draco drawled.  
“Come on. Get up.” Ron continued.  
“You must be joking if you think I’m going anywhere with you. You better get lost before I call the others!” Draco threatened, although even to his own ears it sounded empty.  
“Yeah, right.” Ron scoffed. “You’re too scared of them. Fine then, if you want to go dressed like that!” He cast his eyes over the silk pyjama bottoms and Draco’s bare chest and muttered. “Typical Slytherin – green an’ all.”  
Ron leaned over and touched Draco’s exposed ankle. Draco felt the instant pull behind his navel similar to that of a portkey. When the world settled around them, he looked about confused. They were still in the Manor but downstairs in Draco’s favourite sitting room. Strangely, it was daytime now and Draco worried that he had lost time until he noticed the magnificent Christmas tree in the corner. Something wasn’t right, there were no trees in the Manor anymore. Suddenly, the door burst open and a young boy with white blonde hair bounded inside, shortly followed by a young Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy.  
“Mum…” Draco started, but she breezed past without acknowledging him and settled herself in an armchair by the fire.  
“Draco, sweetheart, why don’t you bring a present over and we can open it together.” Narcissa smiled at the young boy who squealed and ran to choose the biggest present from under the tree.  
The older Draco’s jaw dropped, and he turned to look at Ron who promptly snapped a photo on a modified muggle digital camera he had conjured whilst snorting with laughter.  
“You should see your face!” Ron mocked.  
“What the hell’s going on?” Draco gestured around wildly.  
“It’s you when you were a little brat. I thought that was obvious. Look he still has the silk pyjamas!” Ron seemed to be enjoying this immensely.  
“Why am I…How did I…Weasel, what the hell is going on!” Draco repeated, much more agitatedly.  
“Just shut up and watch, will you?” Ron shrugged his shoulder at the young family in front of the fire. The little boy – Draco - had finished unwrapping two more presents.  
“Come, Cissy. Our guests will be arriving any moment. We must prepare ourselves.” Lucius drawled, very similar to older Draco.  
“But surely we’ve got five more minutes?” Narcissa looked over at Draco who was busy choosing out another present.  
“Not a moment more, Dear. This is very important for us. It must be the talk of the Pureblood society if we are to maintain our status!” When Narcissa’s gaze did not deter from the little boy he tried again and held out his hand. “Come now, Dear. He can open the rest with a house elf.” Turning to Draco he called him over. “What do you say, boy?”  
The little boy looked up with shining eyes. “Thank you, Sir.” But when his parents made to leave the room, his face fell. “You’re going? But I have one for you.” He held out his hand to reveal an untidily wrapped present with ‘Father’ written on in his best joined-up handwriting.  
Without looking over his shoulder, Lucius called “No,” and shut the door after him. Tears welled up and began to fall down the dejected face of younger Draco. A wizened old elf appeared beside him and with a hand on his shoulder guided him back to the tree. But the excitement was gone from the boy and unwrapping the remaining presents became a chore.  
“Cosy Christmas you lot have,” Ron remarked, the sarcasm apparent on his face.  
“Yeah, well, who wants adults hanging around when you can play with as many toys as you want,” Draco replied defensively.  
“You apparently,” smirked Ron. But before Draco could respond again the room span around them and reformed somewhere entirely different.  
“Now what?” Draco muttered. “Hogwarts?”  
“Yule ball, mate. Something vile happened here and we’re going to watch.” Ron said. He conjured a bag of popcorn, the camera gone, and began munching noisily on its contents.  
Draco wasn’t sure what he was yammering on about, but as he glanced around, he recognised himself again, slipping out the door into the decorated gardens. Moments later, Hermione Granger – almost unrecognisable as she was that night – stepped outside too. With a sinking heart, he realised what the Weasel meant.  
“We’re not going out there,” Draco stated firmly.  
Ron began to follow the two young students and threw over his shoulder. “Oh no, we’re going. If I don’t see it for myself, I won’t believe it happened.”  
Draco begrudgingly followed, and they soon came across the couple in question.  
“How much potion did you have to slap on your hair to get it to resemble anything less than a bird’s nest, Granger? Young Draco smirked.  
Young Hermione huffed and retorted. “Says you, your hair has that much gel in it you wouldn’t need a helmet!” She made to continue down the path, but Draco reached out to grab her.  
“Wait, that came out wrong. It looks…nice.” Draco stammered.  
“What?” Hermione stared at him open-mouthed, suspicion apparent in her face.  
“I just mean you scrub up okay, for a Mud…Muggleborn.” He muttered.  
“Well, I’ve seen quite enough of that!” Ron exclaimed. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Malfoy.”  
“What, to not say Mudblood?” Draco questioned.  
“No, you git, to say somethin’ nice.” Ron laughed. “Right what’s next? Let’s see.”  
The scene around them began to spin quickly, Draco caught flashes of several scenes spanning fourth, fifth and sixth year. Draco and Hermione in companionable silence doing homework in the library. Draco and Hermione doing prefect duties together. Draco and Hermione meeting in a hidden alcove, quickly followed by a lot of snogging.  
“No, no. EW! No.” Ron flicked through them all as though he were choosing a channel on Muggle television.  
“Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on?” Draco asked wearily. He desperately wished for his bed and felt terribly out of place with no shirt on.  
“Ah, this is what I’m looking for.” Ron decided and the room around them settled once more.  
The scene showed a Draco that looked very similar to the current one standing next to Ron. Sunken eyes with heavy bags underneath, ruffled hair where desperate hands had run through them, untidy clothing as though he just didn’t care anymore. Hermione appeared at the end of the corridor and walked over to meet him.  
Draco’s stomach dropped. He knew when this was, just two weeks ago, and he did not want to see this.  
“Draco, what’s the matter?” Hermione asked worriedly, “you look terrible!”  
“Gee, thanks.” He replied, “you don’t look so hot yourself.”  
Hermione just rolled her eyes, used to his teasing. She opened her mouth to speak but was abruptly cut off.  
“Look, Hermione. We need to talk.” He stated bluntly.  
“Okay…” She agreed hesitantly.  
“We can’t keep doing this. It’s too complicated.” His voice rang without emotion.  
“What?!” She gasped. “Don’t be ridiculous.”  
He ran his hands through his hair and he looked to the ceiling anxiously, then he let out a great whoosh of air and grabbed her hands pulling her close to him.  
“Hermione, you mean so much to me, you really do. But its just not safe anymore. Not for me, or for you. It’s getting more complicated every day and I just can’t worry about you being hurt.”  
“Draco, this is silly, we can work through this, no matter how complicated it gets.” She reasoned.  
“He’s in my house, Hermione!” He exclaimed, then looked around the deserted corridor quickly.  
Hermione’s mouth fell open into an ‘o’, but she steeled herself and replied. “Then go to Dumbledore. Let him help you. Let me help you!”  
“I can’t!” He’s got me doing things…I just…I can’t Hermione, alright?” His crazed eyes stared at her face, willing her to understand, but all she saw was the strain apparent there.  
“Talk to me, Draco, please. I can help.” She pleaded.  
“Ha.” He let out a bark of humourless laughter. “That would be the day. Please, Hermione. You must see this is the only way.”  
Uncertainty filled Hermione’s face. She could see his reasoning as she’d been having the same dilemma herself but didn’t want to believe it.  
“What if someone finds out? They will kill you. What are we going to do when it comes to battle? Hermione, one of us will die.” Draco was getting more and more hysterical.  
“Alright, alright,” Hermione said finally, then gave him a fierce look. “But I’m not giving up.”  
“It’s just the way it has to be, for now at least,” Draco replied, calming a little at her compliance. Although for the second time tonight, older Draco looked back at his younger self and saw tears in his eyes. He glanced over to Hermione and saw them freely running down her cheeks.  
Hermione stood on her tiptoes and they shared one last kiss before she turned and all but ran back up the corridor. Younger Draco’s voice choked out to her retreating form. “I love you.”  
The scene faded around them once more, but Draco’s stomach felt like lead. Watching the memory, his heart broke all over again, desperately wishing he could have followed her.  
“Wow. That was intense.” Ron mumbled through a mouthful of popcorn. Draco glanced up at the redheaded boy irritably only to find himself back in his own room.  
“Is that it? Am I back in my own time now? Weasley?” Draco glanced around only to find Ron had vanished. “What the hell was that all about?” Draco grumbled into thin air.  
With a huff, he clambered back into bed. Sometimes magic really was a pain in the ass.


	3. Chapter 3 – The Ghost of Christmas Present

Something tickled Draco’s nose and he pawed at it mostly still asleep. The featherlight touches brushed across his face again and he swiped at it whilst groaning groggily but still refusing to open his eyes. Then, a hank full of hair was dumped on his face. He spluttered, both hands coming to his face now to claw the hair away. Leaning over him stood Ginny Weasley. Draco groaned again.  
“Well, I was trying to bring a bit of the dramatics, but your lazy arse couldn’t wake up!” Ginny tutted.  
“Weaselette?” Draco really hoped he was dreaming. First Weasley, then his kid sister. Whose luck is that bad?  
“In the flesh,” Ginny flourished her hands. “- or I suppose not if I’m meant to be a ghost according to some people.”  
“Ghost?” Draco echoed blankly.  
“Never mind. Well are you coming or what?” Ginny tapped her foot impatiently.  
“Coming where? Look I’m not going anywhere ‘til you give me some damn answers!” Draco was getting sick of being confused and scowled.  
“Ugh, did Ron not explain? Typical.” Ginny rolled her eyes and without revealing anymore, slapped a hand across Draco’s forehead, making the world spin again.  
Draco scrambled to his feet from where he fell in his reclined position. He glanced around. They were in Diagon Alley. Several of the shops were boarded up, the evidence of a recent fire evident around the exploded windows. Draco knew it was because of the Dark Lord, some of the shopkeepers had appeared at the Manor a few weeks ago but more hadn’t. The last time Draco had seen the famous shopping street at the start of the Christmas holidays, it had been empty, with only the odd few people shuffling along with their hoods pulled up. Now, the buildings were still boarded up, but the place was bustling in comparison, despite the desolate appearance. Somewhere, festive music was playing, and outside Flourish and Blotts a Christmas tree had been erected. Small groups of people wandered along the high street, collecting their last few bits to complete Christmas the following day.  
“Amazing really. That the people still want to come here after all the danger.” Ginny commented.  
Draco looked over at her. “Yeah, well its not that bad really is it? Otherwise they wouldn’t come. Just look at them. Walking along without a care in the world.” Draco sniffed.  
“Seriously? Is that what you see?” Ginny gaped. “Look closer! Surely you can see it, even with your head stuck so far up your arse it could be a hat.”  
“Yeah well smells like roses over here.” He retorted. But he did look again at the people. It was true, the groups of slowly sauntering people he thought he saw were actually people huddled together, moving from place to place with purpose, shooting furtive glances over their shoulders every few seconds. The Christmas tree was mangy as though it had been heavily knocked around and hastily picked up. He frowned. “Fine. Its not perfect. The cowards are scurrying around like they’ll miss the Boxing Day sales. Speaking of, better hurry, maybe you can afford some second hand clothes this year.”  
Ginny rolled her eyes again. “They’re afraid because they think Death Eaters will come, but whatever, no big deal, right? You deal with that all the time.”  
Draco decided not to answer and shoved his nose in the air self-righteously with a humph. He regretted it instantly as vertigo assaulted him when the world span. He covered his face with his hands, desperately hoping that when he removed them, he would be back in his room. Disappointment flooded him, and he instantly knew where he was.  
“Ew, Weaselette, this is where you live?” Draco said disgustedly.  
“Yep! And I’d take this dinner party any day over the one you just had.” Ginny retorted, but Draco was too busy taking in the chaotic scene in front of him. More Weasleys than he could count were crammed around a table heaving with food. Interspersed between them were Remus Lupin, Fleur Delacour, Harry Potter and…Hermione.  
Draco spun on the Ginny next to him and demanded, “When is this?”  
“Now.” She replied. “Well, tomorrow.”  
Draco watched as one of the twins said something funny to Hermione and she laughed in response, although it didn’t quite reach her eyes. His heart clenched, and he yearned to reach out and take hold of her. He glanced sideways at Ginny, who was watching him intently. He clenched his fists to restrain himself.  
Mrs Weasley appeared, levitating a huge roast turkey into the room and lowered it onto the already buckling table. The room was bedlam as people began to serve themselves food, pull crackers, tell loud stories and so forth. The clamour was deafening but as Draco was about to scoff in disgust, he realised there was a smile on everyone’s face, including his own. He quickly smothered it, but he felt sickeningly warm inside to see Hermione so happy, surrounded by people she cared for.  
Just then, the door burst open and yet another Weasley entered the room. He was quickly followed by the Minister of Magic and several other Ministry officials.  
“PERCY!” Mrs Weasley shrieked, joy written across her every feature.  
She bustled across the room and drew him into a close hug, but Percy remained stiff in her arms and gave a curt nod and muttered “Mother.”  
The scene went fuzzy for a few moments and Draco suspected something was being hidden from him, then Mrs Weasley’s high pitched voice cut through the confusion once more.  
“What do you mean you aren’t staying? Percy, its Christmas! A time for family. Arthur, tell him.” She implored her husband.  
“Now Percy, surely…” Arthur began gently but the Minister gave a nod from by the door.  
“I am terribly sorry Father, but the Minister needs me.” Percy said pompously and pushed his way out of his mother’s arms, chest puffed out self-importantly. As he left, Mrs Weasley’s distraught cries filled the room but all others were silent, casting looks between them. Mr Weasley patted his wife on the shoulder and gently guided her out of the room. Conversation resumed but the mood had clearly been tainted from the encounter.  
“You know what happens next, don’t you?” Ginny frowned and nodded after the Ministry men.  
Draco froze, certain this was the reason behind the bizarre happenings. Information. “I don’t know what you mean.”  
“Sure you do.” Ginny prompted. “You and your lot are planning to take over the Ministry. And knowing old Voldy you’ll do it too.”  
“You know?” Draco stared aghast at her, panic filling him at the hell awaiting him if it ever came back on him.  
“Relax. Its just obvious. But yeah, we know.” Ginny said casually, but her face was anything but. “Right then, that’s us done!” And with a click of her fingers they were back in Draco’s room at the Manor. “Say hi to the next one for me won’t you!” Ginny gave a cheeky grin and disappeared.  
“No!” Draco shouted, “No more!” But he was addressing an empty room. Tiredly he got back into bed once more, determined not to be moved from it again.


	4. Chapter 4 – Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come

The moment a sound echoed around Draco’s room, he sat bolt upright and fired a quick succession of spells at the disturbance. But when the pulses of light reached the dark recesses of his room, Draco saw that there was nothing there. He tried to calm the pounding of his heart and his frayed nerves and slumped back into his bed.  
“Malfoy.”  
The voice came from right next to his head, Draco spun around and pointed his wand as the shadowy figure stepped into the wand light. There stood Harry Potter – Boy Wonder himself.  
“Oh no, you. Piss off will ya?” Draco muttered, lowering his wand.  
“Afraid I can’t do that,” Harry stated. “There are some things you have to see.”  
“Of course, there is…wait, wait!” Draco cried, although resigned to the inevitable. “At least let me put a shirt on this time.”  
Once he was dressed Harry clapped him on the shoulder and the room span once more, however, unlike the previous occasions it didn’t stop on a scene. Images flew past him almost too quick to see, but Draco caught sight of a few of them. Rioting in the streets of wizarding London and whole rows of people falling to green flashes. Men, women and children that Draco instinctively knew were Muggles, shuffling into a warehouse in long lines, heavy chains secured around their ankles and wrists, linking them all together. FiendFyres tore through whole housing estates, decimating everything and everyone in their path with the inhabitant’s screams echoing through the in-between space that Draco and Harry found themselves.  
As more images flashed around them, Draco turned to Harry with something akin to horror in his eyes. “What is all this?” he asked.  
“This is what’s coming if things keep going as they are. The future.” Harry replied evenly.  
Draco glanced back at the images and saw St Mungo’s, once a place of healing, now crawling with men in lab coats experimenting on people strapped to metal tables, twitching. Suddenly a child screamed, the sound coming from a new image. Draco spun quickly and saw a girl of around seven being dragged into a room by a leering man in Death Eaters robes. The girl screamed again and tried to pull away, but the man easily yanked her through the door and slammed it shut behind her.  
Nausea welled up in Draco and he crouched on the floor to regain some stability, when he looked up again, the world had solidified around him. He was in a graveyard, with plots as far as the eye could see. The grave markers nearest to him were roughly hewn pieces of wood nailed together in a cross with names and a death date hastily scratched into them. As his eyes scanned along, he recognised names of people he went to school with and known Order members, several high ranking ones included. As he moved along the row, panic gripped him, and he desperately hoped to not see her name there. When he reached the end and hadn’t found her, he let out a sigh of relief, then realised whose name his eyes had landed on.  
Harry Potter  
The Boy Who Died  
1998  
He frowned and finally looked up to see that the Harry who had brought him here was watching him carefully. The silence stretched between them, but the scene didn’t change.  
Draco stated. “So, you died.”  
“Yup.” Harry deadpanned. “Battle of Hogwarts, an – ally – lied to Voldemort but he didn’t believe her. Three killing curses later and even the Boy Who Lived couldn’t get back up.”  
Draco nodded as though this was typical information, but his attention was taken by scanning the other rows of graves.  
“She’s not there,” Harry told him. “But I bet she wishes she was.”  
“Where is she then?” Draco asked, a hint of desperation in his voice that he hated to reveal to his enemy.  
“You’ll see soon enough.” Replied Harry, misery apparent on his face as he instigated the scene change.  
Draco immediately recognised the room as within the dungeons of some Pureblood house, although he wasn’t sure which. They were stood on a long corridor with several barred doors on it. Harry gestured at the one in front of them, so Draco approached and peered inside.  
Huddled in the corner was a naked girl, so painfully thin she could be just a skin covered skeleton. Her back was marked with both fresh and old wounds, and dried blood caked the matted hair bunched at her neck. She raised her left arm to scrub at her running nose and Draco saw the word ‘Mudblood’ carved into her inner flesh. A bucket in the opposite corner of the cell was the only furniture in the room and from the smell, it was a makeshift toilet.  
“Who is she?” Draco asked, but a noise further down the corridor caused the girl to look up in terror. He saw her eyes, once bright with intelligence, now distorted with fear and he crumpled backwards against the wall.  
“What happened to her?” He gasped, no longer caring that Harry was seeing his vulnerabilities.  
“She was determined as spoils of war and was divvied up accordingly. As it happens, Rodolphus Lestrange was awarded her for his loyalty.” Harry explained, rage twisted his features. “He made her into his pet and…” His voice shook as he uttered the next bit. “…used her…whenever he wanted, shared her with his Death Eater friends. Did…unspeakable things…” He couldn’t continue anymore.  
Draco could barely hear him over the ringing in his ears anyway, his mind rejecting the horrific information being forced on him. He closed his eyes wishing the scene away, but when he opened them again, he instantly regretted it.  
Hermione was there again, looking just as wretched and once again cowering. This time she was in a drawing room, several masked men gathered around her leering. One of them laughed and kicked her in the ribs, knocking her to the ground. Draco cried out in alarm, but Harry just watched, silently seething. They all laughed and a few more joined in, Hermione just curled into a ball and tried not to cry out. Then one man, the most raucous of the bunch took his belt off with a flourish, he advanced towards Hermione with menace and quickly began beating her with the buckle end. Draco yelled again and moved closer, desperate to stop it but unsure whether he could interact with the scene.  
“Potter, make it stop!” Draco screamed the moment Hermione made a sound.  
“I can’t, I’m dead, remember?” Harry intoned sarcastically. “You could though.”  
“What? How? Potter, tell me!” Draco demanded desperately.  
As he moved closer to the attacker and his victim, the others and the room itself returned to mist until it was just the four of them.  
As the man continued to assail her, Draco cried out again, “Please, make it stop! I’ll do anything! Just leave her alone!” He turned back to Harry, but he too had disappeared.  
In his last act of desperation, he struck the man but only succeeded in knocking the mask off. As he gazed into the silver eyes of Hermione’s tormentor, vomit rose up his throat and he emptied the contents of his stomach in front of him. He recognised those eyes, even with a few wrinkles now surrounding them. He looked at them every morning in the mirror.  
With the revelation that he was the abuser, the entire scene faded to darkness. Draco fell to the floor, tears flooded his face and he sobbed. “Please, make it right! I’ll change! I’ll do anything! Just please, make her safe!”  
When he finally lifted his head again, he was back in his own room, alone, with dawn about to break. Exhausted and grateful to be back in his own time, he climbed into bed, knowing it would be the final time that night. As his head hit the pillow he started to plan. He would change the future and make it his own.


	5. Chapter 5 – A New Future

As Draco wandered downstairs the next morning, he could have been fooled that it wasn’t Christmas Day at all. Aside from his Mother’s tender touch to his cheek and hushed “Merry Christmas, Dear.” There was no acknowledgement at all. And no one, absolutely no one, noticed the difference that had overcome Draco.   
“Good,” He thought to himself. No questions would make what was to come much easier.  
Mid-morning, long after the rest of the household had eaten, someone asked languidly whether anyone had fed the prisoners recently. Draco did his best to look disgusted, something which always drew attention to him.  
“Draco, go feed the pigs their slop,” Bellatrix ordered from her reclined position, legs tossed over the arms of the chair.  
Without looking too eager, he quickly left the room, calling for food from a house elf along the way. Once down in the basement, he studied the faces of the prisoners intently, looking for the one he wanted. The woman he dragged down last night. She was curled up at the back of the room, half hidden in shadows and not even attempting to move over towards the food.  
“You there,” Draco called, advancing towards her. “Emmeline Vance? Order member? Right?”  
She looked up at him interestedly but said nothing. Draco crouched in front of her, looking furtively around him at the door and other prisoners.  
“Look, I…I’ve got to do something.” He looked at her imploringly. “Tell me what I can do. To help, the Order, and everything.”  
She looked at him appraisingly. “Well,” She croaked. “You could start by getting us out of here.”

*****************************

Exactly one week later, on New Year’s morning, a great clamour of excitement woke Hermione and Ginny. They walked out onto the landing and peered over the stair rail, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Below them, gathered in front of the kitchen door, was a ragtag group of people, all filthy and injured and being ushered through the door by Mrs Weasley who was fussing them. One of the people looked up and caught Hermione’s eye. A smile spread across her face as she recognised the person. Emmeline Vance. A flurry of emotion ran through Hermione but the most prominent was hope. It was closely followed by satisfaction at a well-made plan coming together perfectly. Already, her mind was buzzing with more ideas following this new development. Having an ally on their side? This would change everything, she would make sure of it.


End file.
